In Sickness and In Sneezes (I'll Love You Through It All) - Olicity
by imfallingforyoureyes102
Summary: "Oliver should care, but he doesn't, because Felicity is sneezing again and this time he thinks she really is going to flip her chair and kill herself." Or Felicity is sick and refuses to acknowledge it until she's strewn over the toilet in her apartment in the middle of the night and a certain boss/best friend/vigilante climbs in through her window and pulls her back together.)


**Hello my friends, hope you enjoy. Check out my other Olicity fics!**

" _Choo_!"

Oliver jumps in his seat before glancing up through the glass of his office to see Felicity pushing her chair back into a less than desirable two-legged tilt, eyes trained hard and fast on the ceiling lights.

He nearly has a heart attack when she sneezes again and the chair slides a few inches. He doesn't notice it, but he's up from his seat in an instant, and the papers he'd had strewn across his desk are now bathed in coffee.

He should care – he _really_ should, because the papers compile the newest acquisition of QC – but he doesn't because Felicity is sneezing again and this time he thinks she actually _is_ going to flip her chair. He's by her desk in an instant with his hand pressing firmly against the back of her seat.

" _Chooo!"_

He bites back a smile at the sound of her chime-like sneezes, taking in the pink flush that has spread its way across her face.

"Bless you," He says softly.

Felicity jumps, hand flying fast to her heart.

"Jesus Christ, Oliver!" she turns to face him with wide eyes before thumping him across the chest. "Don't sneak _up_ on me like that!"

His lips tilt up slightly in the way that Felicity can't help but think is reserved only for her before he shakes his head.

"I was worried you were trying to kill yourself. One more sneeze and you would have been _down_. Trust me," he walks around to the front of the desk, folding his arms across his chest and staring down at her with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Are you okay?"

Felicity rolls her eyes at him before shuffling around her desk and turning her computer on.

"Of course I'm okay," she huffs.

"So the sneezing, it's -,"

"Allergies, hay, cat hair, pollen, dust, you pick." Felicity rolls her eyes at Oliver's furrowed eyebrows. She leans forward and smiles as she hands him a folder. "Here's the file for your meeting which started _three minutes ago,_ Mr. Queen."

"Shit."

 **#**

Even though Oliver is in a meeting, it's only three doors down from his office and while paranoia and constant awareness have made his senses play tricks on him at times, he swears he can hear Felicity's sneezes through the door.

Diggle doesn't blink an eye, though, and so Oliver hashes it up to nothing, really not ready to reveal to his best friend and bodyguard that, _yes, he may have a slight, small, tiny, unimportant thing and/or crush on their girl._

Felicity seems to be back to normal when they meet in the Foundry after work, and while her nose is a bit redder than it normally is, her attempts at death via tilted chair have subsided.

He and Dig patrol the city for about an hour before they realize that they might actually have a quiet night for once. He radios back to Felicity on the coms, letting her know they are on their way back, and the small sneeze that meets his words is enough to draw a laugh from Diggle.

"So we have the night off?"

"Seems like it," Oliver says, glancing between Felicity and Dig as he locks his bow into its brace. "Unless you guys _want_ to wait around for something to happen?"

Oliver means it as a joke, but the way Diggle's eyebrows shoot up makes him scowl at the other man.

"Nope, nope, nope. I'm heading home, gonna try to figure out how to make Lyla un-mad at me."

Oliver raises an eyebrow at his friend before turning to Felicity, frown deepening further when he sees her with her forehead resting against the table.

"Need a ride home, Felicity?" Diggle speaks before Oliver can, and it's his head that is tilting in confusion at the words.

"What about Felicity's car?"

"S'in the shop," Felicity says with a yawn before smiling sleepily at Diggle. "Sure Dig, that'd be great."

Oliver doesn't know why he suddenly feels like slamming a fist into the nearby wall, nor why his insides burn at the fact that Dig knew a small fact about Felicity's life that he didn't.

Or, he does know, but can't and won't acknowledge the reason behind it.

He doesn't miss the way Felicity stumbles a little when getting her stuff together, though, nor the way her small _Night, Oliver,_ is far less animated than it normally is.

He supposes that's why he's able to reason up the logic behind hovering outside of Felicity's balcony window late in the night. Sure, he's done it a million times before, but that doesn't matter. Where Felicity believed that if someone was coming to kill her, that that'd be that, he knows in the deepest parts of himself that he would never let that happen.

So, he leans against the railing, discrete if nothing else, as he stares out into the dark night. He's not a creep, so he doesn't turn to look inside Felicity's apartment until he hears another sneeze ring through the air – strong enough that it manages to travel through the glass window and to his ears.

It's then he glances inside the dark room – then he realizes that Felicity has fallen asleep on her living room couch surrounded by a pile of crumpled up tissues and buried beneath a fog of blankets.

She's sick.

 _Of course._

It's a mundane enough phenomenon that happens to literally everyone, but Oliver can't help the way his chest clenches as the small blonde lets out another cough and burrows further into the blankets. Even when she is at her worst, she still manages to be the voice of reason in both business and crime-fighting – still manages to be the one to set him straight before meetings or tell him which way to turn to catch the quickest route to catch the most current drug lord.

She has always been his rock, in the darkest times and in the stupidest, and Oliver wants to punch himself for not noticing her sneezes and red nose for the likes of a cold.

It takes only a few seconds for him to slip through the window and into her apartment. And, while any other time Oliver would have been furious at the fact that Felicity keeps her living room window open, today is not that day.

 **#**

Felicity is cold.

She thinks she's never been as cold as she is now, but the way her nose refuses to let her breath stops her from cocooning herself entirely in the pile of blankets she's amassed.

It's only when her stomach starts to turn that she surfaces against the cold, and even then it's with disoriented steps and half closed eyes that she makes it down the hall and to the bathroom.

Felicity whimpers as she drops to her knees, her stomach rolling and her head throbbing in pain. She hates throwing up _so much,_ and tears begin to well in her eyes as a small sob rips through her body, her knuckles turning white with the way she clenches and unclenches her fists.

But then a comforting hand is against her back, another gently gathering her hair away from her face, and while she can't make out the words that are being said, she knows exactly who is saying them.

 _Oliver._

Another round of nausea hits and Oliver's hand continues in small circles in the middle of her back. His voice is constant – deep and warm – and soon Felicity is able to stop heaving long enough to take a shaky breath.

She feels Oliver's hands leave then, and for a second, she doesn't know if she's dreamt it all or if she's finally driven him away with her repulsive sick self, and even though she knows it's ridiculous, she lets herself fall back against the wall and let out an unsteady sob.

"Hey, hey, hey," Oliver's voice is so soft Felicity can barely hear it. "You're okay, come on, I got you."

She feels him kneel down next to her and lay a cool, wet cloth against her forehead.

"Here, drink." Oliver presses the glass of water to her lips and Felicity sighs in relief as the cool liquid runs down her burning throat. She keeps her eyes closed, but can still hear Oliver moving in an out of the bathroom.

"Okay, come on, sit up for me sweetheart." Felicity leans forward into Oliver so that her forehead is resting against his neck, and he frowns at how warm she feels.

"You're still in your work clothes, I'm going to help you change into something more comfortable, yeah?"

She's so tired she can only really nod against his chest, but she tenses when she feels his hand run the zipper down the length of her dress. He pauses when she does and softly smooths her hair down with both hands before pressing his lips to her burning forehead.

"You okay?"

She nods, and Oliver finishes pulling off the top part of her dress. She's able to peak her eyes open for a second, and she gasps when she sees Oliver looking directly into her eyes, not one-inch past. She knows he's a gentleman – knows he wouldn't eye her up without her approval – but seeing him so insistent on helping her feel better made her feel all kinds of warmth not related to the flu.

Her eyes fall shut again as he eases a soft t-shirt onto her small frame, and she quickly recognizes it as one of his own that she had to wear back from the Foundry after getting caught in the rain one night.

Oliver quickly reaches around her back and unsnaps her bra. The motion is one often associated with sex, and while any other time Felicity would have been red all over, the act is so gentile and innocent that the intimacy she feels from it is far deeper than sexual.

"Can you stand?"

Oliver doesn't really wait for an answer, because he knows it's most likely no, so he slowly pulls her to her feet and lets her rest all her weight on him as he pulls down the last bit of her dress and untangles it from her feet. The shirt is big enough on her that it falls to her mid-thigh, and in a matter of seconds, Oliver is softly scooping her up into his arms and holding her tightly to his chest.

She feels the softness of her mattress before she can even register that she is in her room, and he helps prop her up so that she can take the medicine he'd found in her cabinets. After delicately removing her glasses, he wraps her in blanket after blanket and presses his lips into his hair.

And, while half of him hopes Felicity doesn't remember just how many times he's done that in the past half hour, he doesn't miss the small smile that falls on her lips as he pulls away. His thumb runs across her cheek one last time before he makes his way to the door.

"L'Oliver?"

Her voice is raspy and soft in the dark, and he turns to see her looking at him.

"Stay with me."

"You sure?"

She nods.

"Please."

He's back at her side within seconds, climbing into the bed as gently as he can.

He stays on top of the covers so that Felicity isn't overwhelmed, but when she turns into him and snuggles into his side – when she mumbles a quiet " _cold_ ," into his chest – he joins her beneath the pile of blankets and pulls her flush against him.

He can feel her warm breath against his neck, and he presses his lips one last time to her hairline. His mouth breaks into the biggest smile he thinks he's had since the island when he feels her own lips brush against his collar bone.

"Thank you for being here."

 _I love you_ , is what he wants to say. He knows that tomorrow there'll be a matter of figuring out what all of this means - he knows that tomorrow might bring a different reality than what is true tonight – but right now, Oliver is content with holding her against him and mending her back together.

" _Always_."

 **Hope you guys enjoyed, please review and let me know what you think! :))))**


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